


Dear Diary

by lys



Category: Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-07-01
Updated: 1997-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lys/pseuds/lys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Lance Parkin's o-so-ambiguous ending to The Dying Days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I can tell, the Doctor and the Brigadier are the property of the BBC; Benny, Jason, the adult Ace, the cat, the champagne, the yellow-stickies, and the set-up belong to either Virgin, Paul Cornell, Dave Stone, or Lance Parkin.

_... From the diary of Prof. Bernice Summerfield ..._

I kissed him. The Doctor, I mean. I really kissed him. And no, not a  
chaste little peck on the cheek. I'm talking about the open mouth, insert  
tongue and attempt to swallow each other's tonsils type of kiss.

I don't know which one of us I surprised more, but I just couldn't let him  
say goodbye and wander off again without doing something. Maybe it was the  
champagne (really good vintage, that -- must remember to ask Ace to pick  
some up for me), maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the fact that I  
thought he was dead, _truly_ dead, twice in as many weeks.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd changed into the  
most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life. It's probably a good thing  
that Jason wasn't around... he was always a little jealous of the Doctor.

[[Post-It note covering the above]]  
Who am I kidding? Jason would've been shagging his brains out before I'd  
even figured out who he was. Bloody roving-eyed bastard...

[[Post-It note covering the above]]  
Stop being maudlin! This isn't about Jason!

 

\-------------------------

 

 _... From the diary of Prof. Bernice Summerfield ..._

I must admit, I wasn't expecting the Doctor to change so soon after I saw  
him last. And I definitely wasn't expecting him to change into someone  
like _that_. I mean, this is the Doctor we're talking about. I could  
manage handsome -- the cricket player was handsome, in a Boy's-Own-Paper  
way -- but not this. This was pure beauty. A Greek kouros come to life on  
my back doorstep. Or his. Whatever.

It took a bit of getting used to. After as much time as I'd spent with my  
Doctor, suddenly having this stranger appear with his memories, but not  
his face, and not his mannerisms, was disconcerting. He grew on me  
quickly, though. We'd gone back to the house, and the Brigadier had made  
cocoa. I followed it up with some vodka and relaxed on the couch next to  
the Doctor. He pulled my head onto his lap, acting as a pillow. I can  
remember him stroking my hair, my temples, until I finally dropped off.  
He's got wonderful fingers...

And the next thing I knew, he was gone. Forever, I'd thought. I got him  
back only to think I'd lost him again. And here we were, a few days  
later, in my new room, the start of my new life, drinking this crukking  
 _incredible_ Brut Imperial out of coffee mugs with "If I want your  
opinion, I'll ask you to fill out the necessary forms" painted on.

This was goodbye, he said. Goodbye. What the hell does that mean to a   
Time Lord? I didn't know, and I didn't care. I just knew I wouldn't   
forgive myself if I'd let him walk out that door.

So, as I said. I kissed him. I grabbed him by the lapels, pushed him back  
on the bed, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. The worst that  
could happen was that he'd push me off, brush the cat hair off his jacket,  
and politely but distantly walk out of my life. The best I could hope for  
was a bit of confusion, and a sweet smile as he walked out; I'd seen him  
human once. He didn't do a very good job of it.

But this went beyond my wildest expectations.

He only tensed up for a minute, then put his arms around me and kissed me   
back, mimicking what I did. He was definitely a quick study. I could feel   
his fingers running up and down my spine as I ran mine through his   
wonderfully thick, soft curls. Which I quickly abandoned for his cravat,   
his waistcoat, his shirt (they don't make buttons like they used to)...   
I'm running about in a T-shirt, and he's got four bloody layers on!

He didn't seem to have any complaints until I ran my fingernails over his  
chest, then he broke the kiss, pushing me away, and gasped "This is very  
nice, Bernice, but I'm not so sure...." I shushed him the quickest way I  
could, and when I finally came up for air again explained briefly that he  
was running about in a body that nine out of ten sentient bipeds would  
find well-nigh irresistible, sexually, and learning how to use it before  
they did would probably be a great asset. He couldn't argue with that.

 

[[Post-It note covering the above]]  
Oh, all right, so I threatened to tell Ace about his new look and let her  
have him first. He looked tremendously panicked at that... his eyes all  
wide-opened and desperate... What the hell, it worked.

 

\-------------------------

 

 _... From the diary of Prof. Bernice Summerfield ..._

By the time we got each other's clothes off, the floor was littered with  
wadded up clothing, miscellaneous objects from his pockets, coffee mugs,  
one champagne bottle, hundreds of boxes, and one loudly complaining cat,  
whom we ignored. Did I mention that he was absolutely beautiful? It looked  
like all the scars had disappeared when he regenerated, and the new ones  
were few and far between. I'm sure every one had its own story, but I was  
much too busy to ask. What he lacked in technique, he more than made up  
for in boundless enthusiasm. And was he ever well-endowed! Hung like a

(the rest of the entry was apparently removed from the diary)

[[Post-It note covering the above with different handwriting]]  
Bernice! Please! You're embarrassing me!


End file.
